


When I Break

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn with Feelings, and just a little bit explicit, mostly feelings, soft and sweet and steamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 03:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15833292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: What if Steve didn’t know, all this time, didn’t realize what it was he felt.... Then, what if suddenly he knew.





	When I Break

“Hey, babe.”

Steve feels his eyes flutter closed, something like comfort or relief flooding over him at the familiar term, the familiar voice. His breathing evens out, deepens, his muscles relax—melt, almost. His lips, which he realizes only now have been in a pursed frown, tilt upwards. It’s not a grin, but it’s a lot closer than he’s been to one all day.

Danny settles into his chair at Steve’s side, reaching out without looking, bottle of beer in his hand, waiting for Steve to take it. He does, and maybe it’s just wishful thinking that Danny’s fingers seem reluctant to let go of the bottle. His own fingers don’t seem to mind, and they sweep gently over Danny’s as he takes possession of the beer.

It’s not like it was a rough day, so he doesn’t feel like he has an excuse. He just really wants to curl up by a camp fire, let the world fade away, wrap himself in a blanket, and surround himself with things of comfort—things he loves, things he wants to protect... things he wants to protect _him_.

Maybe he’s getting old. Maybe he’s getting soft. Maybe he’s just going through a phase or a rough patch or something.... But he feels warmer with Danny at his side. Not that he felt cold, exactly. More like something was missing, something lacking, something not quite right.

Things are easier when Danny’s there. _He’s_ easier when Danny’s there.

The problem is, Danny’s not there as much as he used to be.

Don’t get him wrong, Steve doesn’t begrudge Danny his time with his kids. He’d never do that. He just maybe wishes.... Maybe it’d be nice if some of that time they spent here.

They used to. Grace used to like coming to Steve’s little patch of beach. It’s different now she’s a teenager, he knows that. And Charlie is more of a zoo and park kind of kid than a beach kind of kid. Steve’s been thinking about getting a trampoline... thinks that might tempt Charlie to hang out at Crazy Uncle Steve’s more. Only. Well, he’s pretty sure Danny would actually hurt him if he did.

Still. Might be worth it.

Seriously, there must be something wrong with his heart. It hurts so much lately.

That pain is easing now, the longer Danny sits here with him. And it’s getting harder and harder to pretend he doesn’t know what that means. He’s not a complete idiot, despite what Danny sometimes seems to imagine.  And maybe he’s never felt exactly this way before, but he does know what it looks like—when someone’s so infatuated they cease to function. He’s seen it before, on people around him. He’s always been a bit (maybe too) smug that _he’d_ never be like that, never be that forlorn, that lost, that gone. 

So he recognizes it in himself, is his point. Saw it coming, even. 

What he unfortunately doesn’t have the least idea about, is what to do with this information. It’s not like he can just say to Danny: _Hey buddy, we’ve got a case, oh and by the way, I’m completely in love with you_.

Yeah. He sees _that_ going so very well. 

But it’s not like he can keep hiding it, either. He’s pretty sure Danny knows something is up. Pretty sure he’s suspected for a while now. Pretty sure Danny worked it out, ohhh, right about the same time Steve himself did. 

Which was two weeks ago. 

Two weeks of pretending things are still the same, all the while realizing they’re not. Realizing you want to kiss your partner, not just hug him, at the end of a long case that dragged over from the day before, all through the long sleepless night and half-way into a next day that looked different from all previous days, because suddenly you knew. Two weeks of being utterly terrified of what would happen if you told him.... And even more afraid of what it’d mean if you never did. 

He’s not usually a coward. Not usually afraid to go after what he wants, not shy about taking something he desires. He’s just never desired his best friend before. Never wanted to kiss him till he can’t breathe, never wanted to hold him close and not ever let him go. 

But after two weeks of pretending so hard it’s not true, Steve feels broken. Maybe he’s just tired. It’s been a long day—they’ve all been long days—and he’s not as young as he used to be. 

He lets out a half-shattered breath that feels too loud in the evening breeze... in the eerie silence beside him, the surprising lack of sound from the lips of his normally verbose partner. As he sucks a full breath back in, Danny’s hand comes to rest on the arm of Steve’s chair. Steve looks down at the sand for a long, awkward moment, not daring to meet Danny’s eyes. And then he closes his eyes, switches his beer to his other hand, and lets his now-free hand come to rest against Danny’s. 

Eyes still closed, he hears Danny shift in his seat, hears the bottle thud against the wood of the chair, the click of Danny’s phone—can’t help the smile that forms on his lips when he hears Danny place their order for Steve’s favorite Indian food—and somehow misses it when, in amongst the rest of those things, Danny slides his hand beneath Steve’s on the arm of the chair, and suddenly they’re holding hands. 

His eyes do open then, and he looks across at Danny, who just shrugs, sets his phone down, picks his beer back up, and takes a swig. Steve reaches his beer across to Danny’s and they clink them together, eyes lingering, fingers tightening. It’s not a big moment. It could mean anything, or nothing. But Steve’s pretty sure it means a lot more than it seems. 

He’s even more sure later, when the food comes and they sit across from each other at the dining room table to eat, and Danny doesn’t make a big deal about it, doesn’t give Steve a hard time, doesn’t remind him of the first time they shared these dishes that are now so tied up in them, in being together, in being who they are... together. But that’s how it tastes to Steve now. The richness of the curry, the tang of the chutney, the soft pliant warmth of the naan between his fingers... he can’t separate it from the sass, the teasing, the familiarity of his partner. 

And somehow Danny knows this. Knows that of all food that’s special to them, this is what will mean the most to Steve. And he thinks that’s when he knows that Danny knows.

After they eat, they’re sitting on the sofa, watching the tail end of some documentary or something, and maybe they’re a little closer to each other than usual but they’ve not gone back to holding hands, and Steve realizes he wishes they had. 

“Why’d you do it?” He asks, when Danny mutes the next commercial. 

Danny blinks for a bit, but doesn’t pretend to be confused. “Because it’s been two weeks since you figured out you’re in love with me and you were starting to freak out.”

It catches Steve off guard, the straightforward honesty, and he laughs, which is by far the better option because suddenly he feels very much like he might throw up.

“See?” Danny takes in what must be Steve’s slightly green tinge, and grabs for his hand again, dropping the remote to the floor in his rush to hold onto him like he’s afraid he might fall. Which to be fair it kind of feels like Steve’s doing. “There you go again, freaking out.”

Steve swallows, tries to pretend it doesn’t taste like bile. “How...” he tries to breathe, finds Danny’s fierce grip on his fingers hurts—and that helps. “How are you _not_ freaking out?” He finally manages. 

Danny’s smile is grim. It makes Steve’s stomach hurt. “Who says I’m not?” 

That almost makes Steve laugh again, but he’s afraid of what else might come out. “You don’t _look_ like you’re freaking out,” he points out. 

“How do you know this isn’t what I look like when I’m freaking out?”

“Danny.” And maybe he’s done it on purpose, because if there’s one thing that might center Steve in this moment, it’s a reminder of how well he knows his partner. “I think I’m a little familiar with your freak outs, buddy.”

“Maybe so,” Danny counters. “But not this kind.”

“Oh, really?” Steve’s truly amused now, because surely Danny hasn’t forgotten Steve’s seen him freak out over relationships quite a few times. 

Danny must read that in his tone, because he amends—“ _Not with you_.”

“Hey, I’ve seen you freak out over me, too....”

There’s that grim smile again. “Not since you realized you’re in love with me.”

“So... are you?”

Danny’s eyes close. His lips form the slightest smile—if Steve didn’t know his expressions as well as he does he might have missed it.

“Freaking out? Or in love with you....”

And that hits Steve in his lower gut. If he’d not been sitting he might have flinched. He’d meant _freaking_ _out_. The other thing... and he’s a jerk for this, but he’d not even got that far yet. He’s been so overwhelmed with his own revelation, there hasn’t been time or headspace for wondering if Danny might return his feelings. But now the possibility is screaming so loudly in his ears he’s amazed he can hear himself think.

“Ummm, the second one?” He asks tentatively, ending with his bottom lip caught firmly between his teeth as though even his mouth can’t believe he said it out loud. Which he didn’t, really. Danny’s the one who’s spoken the words—and the irony of that turn-about is not lost on Steve.

Danny seems distracted for a moment, absorbing Steve’s reaction, his eyes glued to Steve’s lips. But when Steve bites down harder, Danny’s eyes fly up to Steve’s. The answer is written so plainly in those sparkling blue eyes, no one could miss it. As Danny is clearly aware. 

“I think you already know that, babe.”

...Which leaves the freaking out. And if he is—which he must be or why are they having this conversation in the first place—but if he is... _why_ is he? 

And part of Steve’s heart is a few steps ahead, because there’s only one answer that makes sense, and he feels like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. 

“You think I can’t do this.” He swipes a hand across his stubble, which has been getting out of control lately—say, the past two weeks? (You know, along with everything else.) “You think I’ve been freaking out because I don’t know how to have a relationship.”

In all fairness, he doesn’t. He’d be the first to admit that. The fact he was going to propose to Catherine, with whom he worked fabulously as a fuck-buddy but never once had anything even approaching a meaningful conversation—not like he has with Danny, countless times—well, it tells you something about his own opinion of his ability to form lasting and meaningful relationships is his point. 

Which actually, is kind of the whole problem. He already _has_ a relationship with Danny. One that’s lasted longer, proved more meaningful, than any other relationship in his adult life—bar perhaps Joe. Although, to be clear, he’s never once wanted to kiss Joe. Never dreamed about pushing him up against the tech table and having his way with him, never had to bite his tongue to keep from pulling the Camaro over and shutting him up with his mouth....

Danny doesn’t look like he’s disagreeing, but he’s also not saying anything indicating Steve’s right. He just holds tighter to Steve’s hand, and presses his lips together, waiting for Steve to deny it. 

Steve looks down at their hands, and somehow it gives him strength. He can’t pinpoint what exactly it is, but they look _right_ together. They just fit, somehow. And like before, he finds that everything eases when Danny’s close. 

“Alright,” he begins. “I’ll grant you, I’m not great at relationships—with _other_ people. I like to think it’s different with you. But okay. Not my forte.” He pauses, meets Danny’s eyes, squeezes his hand, and continues. “But that’s not what I’ve been... making myself crazy over.”

Danny’s brow furrows. His mouth opens like he might say something, but no actual words escape, which Steve finds so endearing, he nearly kisses Danny right then. But he needs to get this out first. 

“You’re already my best relationship. Everything is better with you and so much harder _without_ you. I go to you when I need comforting, rely on you when I need help.... If we’re together... what do I do when we have a fight? Who do I go to when I ruin it? Who helps me fix it when I mess this up?”

Danny’s eyes are watery and downturned, like he’s so moved by what Steve’s said... and something else as well. Embarrassed? Touched? 

He tugs on Steve’s hand and scoots closer, as though he can only reply to that if they’re touching more. 

“Me. You still come to me.” He sounds breathless and amazed, as though what Steve’s said is incredibly important. “And when _I_ break this, I still come to you.” He says it like it’s a revelation that means everything. 

Still holding tightly to Steve’s hand, Danny falls back against the sofa, effectively pulling Steve with him, till they’re both reclining against it, slightly awkwardly. His sigh is half a sob, half a laugh, and after a few deep breaths, he continues. 

“That’s what I’ve been worrying about, these past two weeks... watching you get closer to admitting it. Knowing, when you finally asked—knowing I’d say yes, even though I don’t know if we _can_ do this... either of us. Because I can’t not try, I can’t... I knew I’d say _yes_ anyway.” He blinks his eyes to clear them, bites down on his lips till he can continue. “But you’re what always fixes me when I break. If I can’t go to you when I need saving, I’m lost.”

And that’s when Steve sees it. Because lost and broken is how he’s been feeling. But it’s how he’s been feeling from _not_ telling Danny. From not being able to kiss him, from not being close to him—as close to him as he _wants_ —nearly enough. 

So maybe it doesn’t matter, because yeah, they don’t really have a choice—like Danny said, it’s a “yes” anyway. If they fall, they fall... and if they’re broken to begin with... well. If they never try, they stay broken. But if there’s even the slightest chance.... 

Steve wishes he was better with words. Because there’s nothing he wants more in this moment than to be able to comfort Danny, to reassure him, to tell him it’s worth the risk. To convince him he’s committed, he’ll do whatever it takes to see that this has every chance to succeed.

But all he can do is hold Danny’s hand close.  Smile into those soft blue eyes. And hope Danny can see all of that, in his own eyes. 

From the look on Danny’s face, Steve feels pretty good about how much of that he does get. Which makes him wonder...

“How’d you know, anyway? That I’d realized...?”

Danny lets out a huff of amusement and leans further back on the sofa. When he meets Steve’s eyes again, there’s a heat there he wasn’t expecting.

“Easy,” Danny breathes. “You stopped flirting with me.”

“I don’t—” Steve automatically starts to deny it, but Danny’s eyes flash with warning, and he stops. “That’s not flirting, that’s just how I am with you,” He finishes softly. 

Danny’s grin is wolfish. “Exactly. Flirting.” He leans closer to Steve, tangles their arms together, sweeping his hand further up Steve’s arm to grasp his bicep. “At any rate, you stopped. Suddenly. In the middle of a case. For a while I waited for it to start back up, but when it didn’t, I tried to work out _why_ you’d stopped.... Didn’t take me very long to figure it out.”

He looks smug, Steve realizes, and it’s a look he loves on Danny. Loves the idea of being what put that smile on Danny’s lips. Really wants to be what keeps it there... for a long time to come. 

Suddenly, the smile shifts... from smug to something closer to pleased, maybe even proud.

“What..?” He asks, wondering what caused it.

“You’re not freaking out anymore.”

And Danny’s right, he isn’t freaking out. And it’s not just the way Danny’s got himself wrapped around Steve, although there’s no doubt that’s helping. Maybe a lot. (Parts of him suggest that _more_ will help even more, too.) He just knows, whatever comes, it’ll be better than not trying at all. 

“No, I’m not.” 

He must smile some special way or something, because suddenly Danny lunges up at his lips, and they sink into each other’s mouths with needy gasps that would be embarrassing if they hadn’t both made them at the same time.

“I like not freaking out,” Steve says when they separate to breathe.

“Me too.”

“I also liked _that_ ,” he adds, meaning the kiss.

“Hmmm,” Danny replies, fixated once more on Steve’s lips. “I’m not so sure....”

“Oh is that so?” Steve experimentally licks his lips, and watches as Danny’s eyes dilate. “Well, we’d better try it again and see....”

“Uh-huh,” Danny breathes, still not looking up from Steve’s lips. “Good ide—” and he cuts himself off before he can finish, pressing his lips firmly against Steve’s, tugging on the back of Steve’s neck to pull him closer, and nearly winds up climbing onto his lap.

When they finally fall apart, Steve raises his eyebrows, waits for the verdict. “Well?”

“I think it’s gonna be worth it,” He rasps, nearly breathless. 

“Yeah?” Steve asks softly, fingers still tangling in the hair at the nape of Danny’s neck, thumbs rubbing slow circles just behind his ears, mindless touching he can’t seem to stop now he’s started. 

“Ungh,” Danny asserts, leaning into Steve’s touches like they’re the most amazing thing ever and he can’t get enough. And as the more Steve touches Danny, the less broken he feels, he completely agrees.

Steve’s fingers still at the realization, and Danny whimpers at the loss. But Steve’s need for contact is only growing, and he’s not going to take this where he wants it to go on the sofa, like this is some kind of illicit transaction. 

He wants Danny in his bed, and he wants it now, is his point.

“Hey bud... can we go upstairs?” 

His words are like some kind of jolt to Danny’s system, and he’s visibly wrenched out of the fuzzy soft haze he seems to have been drifting in, all half coherent sounds and needy grasps. The eyes that meet Steve’s when he leans back, searching, are one part filled with wonder, and two parts equally split between fear and certainty. 

There’s a big part of Steve that just wants to sweep Danny up in his arms, carry him bodily to his bed, and take him apart, piece by piece. But there’s enough doubt written on that wonderfully worn face that he holds back, waiting for Danny to be the one to stand and head for the stairs. 

“So, we're really doing this, huh?” He’s leaning back enough there’s not any contact between them now, like he knows he needed to break that current, in order to see clearly, unaffected. 

Steve knows better than to react to it as though it’s a dumb question, or to imagine it means Danny’s having second thoughts. He needs reassuring, Steve’s familiar enough with Danny’s processes to see it for what it is. 

So, he smiles, as warmly, as fondly as he can—which isn’t difficult to do, considering he feels drenched in love for the man in front of him—and he nods. “Yeah, Danny. We’re really doing this.”

It’s the right approach, and Danny didn’t need much, was probably asking more out of habit than actual need, because as soon as the words are out, he’s on his feet, reaching for Steve’s hand, and leading him, stumblingly fast, to the stairs, up them, and into Steve’s room.

He pauses, in the doorway, Steve directly behind him, nearly colliding into him from the sudden lack of movement. Straightening himself up on the force of a deep, harsh breath, Danny turns on the spot, brings his hands up to Steve’s shirt, and tears it off over his head as he walks backwards to the bed, pulling a now half-naked Steve with him. But before he can let himself fall back, Steve’s holding him up, tugging at the buttons, sliding his shirt off his shoulders, catching it before it hits the ground, tossing it on the chair by the bed. He’s about to push Danny back on the bed when he hesitates, wanting to remember this moment, and in that split second, Danny resumes control, pulling Steve on top of him as he collapses back on the mattress, bouncing as he hits it, drawing first a gasp, then a chuckle out of Steve. 

Everything slips into an intense, narrowed focus after that. Yellow light from the lamp on the dresser casting a timeless sort of glow over Danny’s skin, which Steve marks out, every inch as he exposes it. Tracing lines of muscle, touching scars, kissing the broken places as though he can mend them with his lips. Danny’s fingers explore Steve’s marks of battle, lingering on the incisions on his abdomen, feeling for them and finding them with such practiced ease Steve can only imagine Danny’s thought of doing this before. 

Only when they’ve warmed every inch of exposed skin do they slip out of their briefs, panting as they gently free each other, still careful not to touch, as though something’s been holding them back, keeping them from this. They’re both leaking, and there’s a heaviness in the air that’s not attributable solely to the salt air drifting in through the open window. 

Lost in a moment of indecision, wanting to touch, wanting to taste, wanting to take it all in and make the most of each step, Steve finds himself thinking how absolutely gorgeous Danny is. He must say it out loud, because Danny’s entire chest turns pink, and he pushes up against Steve’s, moving from beneath him towards the bedside table, muttering “please tell me you have lube,” grunting in satisfaction when he finds it, and settles on his knees to begin working on himself.

Steve falls back against the pillows, disbelief at the day that’s landed him here, with Danny in his bed, so beautifully opening himself up for Steve. 

He’s evidently not interested in making a show of it, as he almost immediately has two fingers deep inside, moving to three well before it can possibly be a good idea, and when Danny throws the bottle at Steve, he moves first to coat his own fingers, reaching up for Danny, needing to make sure he’s really ready.

“Just—” Danny pants, pushing himself down further onto Steve’s fingers, clearly impatient for more. “Just. Get... ungh... _inside me_ would you.”

And it figures Danny would be bossy in bed, Steve thinks, as Danny reaches for the bottle, grabs it back from Steve, pours out too much and lets it drip all over Steve’s belly, coating his dick with a hand that’s surprisingly warm. Steve doesn’t have time to react before Danny’s removes his hand and is lining himself up, sliding down in one slick motion, not stopping till he’s flush against Steve. 

He’s completely inside Danny and it feels so much where he belongs, his gasp sounds ecstatic even to his own ears. And from the pleased grin on Danny’s face he clearly agrees. Or is thrilled by Steve’s reaction. Or possibly both. And it occurs to him, in the instant before Danny starts to move, that this moment of power is something Steve sees Danny using to his benefit—and inevitably to Steve’s detriment. And he doesn’t mind in the least, because now Danny’s moving and it’s the most incredible thing Steve’s ever felt. 

Danny alternates between seeking his own pleasure and making sure Steve’s getting the most of his, and it’s been a long time since Steve’s felt so cared for, so important, so wanted and needed and also so capable of giving. Somehow just holding Danny up, as passive as it seems, he feels more empowered, more virile, more in control than he has since he doesn’t even know when. 

Heat and pressure build between them and Danny shifts to reach for himself, but Steve beats him to it, and on an absolutely broken sob of release, Danny pushes Steve towards his own, collapsing on top of him, driving him deeper still as Steve pulses through it, grabbing onto all of Danny that he can, needing him close, needing as much of their bodies touching as possible. 

As they come down from it, sticky and sweaty and sated, it occurs to Steve that the brokenness he’s been feeling isn’t just faded, isn’t just placated—he’s being drawn back together, mended, and he already feels himself growing stronger where he was fractured. 

He wants to say that to Danny, to explain, to ask if he feels it too, but as he turns to him and takes a breath, he finds the air being kissed out of his lungs, a heavy, languid Danny draping himself across Steve’s chest, grasping for his fingers, dropping kisses along his side, murmuring “that’s how we do it, that’s how we fix what’s broken... that’s how we heal... that’s how....” And he seems to come almost out of a trance, as he looks up and meets Steve’s eyes, which maybe convey some deep fondness or affection or maybe just raw desire, because Danny turns pink again, and grins. 

“Hey, babe.” 

“Hey yourself.” 

Danny’s eyes flash with something electric, and Steve doesn’t blame him... his voice sounds so lust-blown he’s almost turning himself on. He feels his cheeks heat, feels his dick respond despite the odds, and rolls Danny onto his back, kissing him firmly into the mattress till they’re both half-hard again. 

“Okay babe, easy there, don’t break me,” Danny pants, shoving Steve to the side so he can breathe. 

“I thought you just said that’s how I fix you....”

“Yeah, but you don’t get to break me on purpose just so you can put me back together again.” 

“I dunno,” Steve muses. “Seems like a valid use of time.”

“You’re going to be impossible, aren’t you. What am I thinking, getting myself into this?”

“You’re thinking that it’s going to absolutely be worth it.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, it is....” And he pulls Steve back down on top of him, and into a kiss that makes Steve’s toes curl, his blood heat, and his heart swell, so full of contentment, he really does think he’ll spill over.

The intensity fades into lazy sweetness, which fades into sleepy caresses, and eventually into oblivion. 

Danny rouses him from the depths in the middle of the night, with sloppy kisses all the way down his body, and when hot, wet fingers press at his hole, he gasps into it, hips arching off the bed, dick filling in an instant, only to be enclosed inside Danny’s mouth as he opens him further, adding more lube and more fingers in one inexorable push to get as close as he can, as deep as he dares, whispering between laps at Steve’s leaking slit about healing from the inside out. 

By the time Danny slides inside him, Steve knows he’s balancing on a knife’s edge, and it takes all he has to not lose it in the first five seconds. Danny moves slowly at first, picking up the pace, searching for the angle that will send Steve over that sharp edge. When he finds it, and Steve cries out, he understands, so much more clearly what Danny meant... because it really feels like this is how they fix everything. And when he feels Danny come inside him, filling him with the best kind of warmth, the most fulfilling closeness and care, he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. And when Danny works Steve over the edge alongside him, it feels like some kind of pact between them. 

Not that they’ll never fall. But that they’ll always get back up. Together. 


End file.
